Abi did not like the way the lowly woman spoke for the princess, who was she to speak to her as if she were some lowly criminal? She would have been shocked and a tad bit disgusted if the princess, her future queen, did not recognize the crests belonging to her court, why did that guard assume such a thing? Even she, who had skipped many lessons, had managed to recognize a few of the symbols. The princess looked to be about the same age as her, she was definitely capable, unless she was one of those weird children who grew up unnaturally quickly, she dismissed the thought, she seemed normal enough.

"It is Lady Abilasha" she reminded the guard. "And if you wish to see my skills then I shall call upon one of the Djinn" She was always wary when calling upon the primarily invisible spirits found throughout the world. If she called upon one nearby that happened to be cranky, havoc and chaos could follow if she wasn't careful. If she had her own personal Djinn, she would have called it in an instant, however she had yet to receive one and so she must call upon the one found in the wild for whatever task at hand, however it was a handy gift to have nonetheless. Shaking the bangles on her arms she slowly raised her hands up, creating a light jingling noise as they clattered against one another musically.

"Djinn of the air come before me and reveal yourself to all" she commanded. Out on deck a whirlwind landed on deck, evading the various people on deck and forced itself into the room where Abi was being held, it stopped in the cage revealing its physical form. A sandy brown ferret like creature, with a tuft of fur on its chin, delicate looking wings on the heels of its paws and bright intelligent eyes stared at the girl impatiently. Abi swore she could hear it "harumph" after examining her.

"Speakers get younger and younger each year" grumbled the Djinn in a raspy elderly male voice "You can't just going around calling Djinns to show your friends" he scolded while nodding his head over to the princess and the guards. "What if I had been a storm Djinn? Would have brought this ship down to the ground I would."

"I-I'm sorry" said Abi, slightly shocked by the grumpiness of the Djinn, they were usually quite willing to serve the one who called them. She finally understood where the term old windbag came from. "They didn't believe I could call you" She winced when she heard the Djinn grumble once again.

"Waste of my time" he muttered.

"Well perhaps if her majesty permits, you could create some sort of gale to quicken our pace or slow down the witch who is most likely in pursuit?"

"Her majesty?" He looked around at the bunch of them, dressed rather haughtily, perhaps a new fashion statement he was of course unaware of, his eyes fell on the princess. By instinct and many eons of experience he knew when he was looking at the princess, he bowed before her. Abi couldn't help but feel a twang of jealousy, as the cranky Djinn bowed respectfully to the princess.

"Well there, a Djinn. Let me go." stated Abi.

"Not so fast, self-proclaimed noble. Being able to summon ethereal beasts doesn't prove your innocence. In fact, it has put you in an even worse position. As the Djinn said, he could've been a destructive force. It's possible you were trying to kill us all. We cannot let you go free until the princess says so." The captain gave Abi a stern look. Then, suddenly clearing the room's tense atmosphere, Chataigne hopped down from her chair and strolled over to the barred room.

"You're a Djinn? You're so much different from what I imagined! So adorable!" She curtsied before him. "Princess Chataigne de Gavaroche. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" She flicked the lock open, allowing Abi to leave, if she wished. The princess didn't even glance at her, though, continuing to focus on the grumpy beast.

"Ah, but your highness--"

"That is all, Captain. I do not feel she is a threat. If she can call on such cute, fuzzy creatures, there's no way she'd be dangerous!" The princess's ignorance was astounding, yet oddly justified. Upon hearing her words, the Captain followed orders without question and dismissed her soldiers.

Abi was free, but the victory felt quite hollow. The Djinn that she had summoned was making allies with the person who had imprisoned her. She would have preferred if the Djinn would have just gone back into the sky where it belonged. She decided right then and there that as soon as she got to a hospitable location with sandvessels she would get home as fast as she could, away from the princess.

The Djinn, having absorbed all of the praise that the princes had given it, felt puffed up and proud. He had forgotten how pleasant "proper classed" humans could behave. The young speaker kept good company, at least. "I am Saskrit, Djinn Sultan of the Air " said the Djinn respectfully "It has been many centuries since I have been in the presence of someone such as yourself. It is a pleasure." He nodded his head approvingly. Abi nearly choked, she had called a Djinn Sultan? Though it did explain the oldness of the Djinn. She sighed. Things were probably going to get worse.

"Er...I beg your pardon your highness" said Abi tentatively. She heard the Djinn grumble something incoherently. "Where shall I stay now?"

Chataigne finally turned to Abi. Her face was blank, showing no real sign of a thought process. "Well, since you're so accustomed to jumping on the backs of moving vehicles, you're allowed to cling to the aft end of the ship for the rest of our journey." She smiled and went back to idolizing the furry creature. "So, you're a sultan? I hear they're like kings! So you're sort of like my father! Does that mean you rule over lots of other little animal people? Do you have a queen? What does your castle look like?"

The princess's fervent admiration would normally take its toll on someone's patience, but seeing as the Djinn had not had human contact for quite some time, her questioning could be taken as a compliment. She certainly seemed interested in hearing the old man's tales and almost every old timer loved telling them. Chataigne noticed Abi still standing in the corner. She shooed her away.

((Be careful of what you wish for. Ack I've been neglecting my duties. Time to correct that.))

They were in the final stages of supper when one of the ships young couriers ran up and presented a piece of paper to the Mistress. Damocles assumed it was a report as she started to crack a smile. She stood and tapped lightly on the tea bowl to get everyone's attention.

"The next Lexmadan city has just come in to sight," she started, "We will attack as soon as our cannons come in range."

"So pray tell, what is our objective?" Damocles asked needlessly.

"It should be obvious. We are after the Princess of Gavaroche!" the Mistress replied, bombastically so, "And I want her alive and unharmed."

One of the officers on deck blew a whistle. The call to arms on the fleet as Damocles got up, urging his companions to do the same as the deck started to be clear for battle. Up on the tower where the bridge was, the flag of the Jagatai Khanate was hoisted. The black flag with a white cross-scimitars held by arms. From various doors and hatches emerged Khanate troops. They were well armoured in light and flexible lamellar armour splotched with the colours of the desert; their trademark scimitars by their sides. They formed up in to their units with speed and efficiency that even Damocles had to concede to their superior drill instruction. Despite the hustle and bustle, someone found the time to put a small platform in place from which the Mistress could relay her final orders before battle. She spoke in her native tongue and Damocles only caught the important parts. Namely, the small sand boat assault waves that were to advance on the city under the cover of the Lady Bug's guns.

"Wo, zun zhi!" the assembled men replied as the Mistress finished.

That phrase was familiar to him and it translated roughly as "I obey and shall do as you command."

Abi walked out of the room, curtsying once again, though no one seemed to notice her. After the princess had effectively dismissed her, it seemed that she no longer existed, the two people she needed to be her allies had abandoned her like a carcass in the desert. She walked up on deck, squinting slightly as the sun's rays reached her eyes, and sat upon one of the crates on board. Homesickness had set into her a long time ago, and now that she was "free" she was impatient. Aside from that, she worried about her parents, what would they think had become of her? She played with the end of her braid idly gazing at the sand below as they zoomed to their destination.

Below deck, Saskrit was enjoying all the questions he was being asked. The princess was quite a refreshing human. "Yes dear princess, sultans and kings are very similar. In fact many, many centuries ago there were human sultans as well. However their kingdoms and treasures now lie beneath the desert or have been changed to your present kingdoms." He brushed his paw over his ear, a habit that he could never shake while in his physical form, though he liked being admired by the princess. "In the ancient days, there were many more visible Djinn; many of them had similar forms like mine, those that didn’t usually prefer to stay away from humans.” He sighed happily “Yes, those were glorious days for both human and djinn-kind. Many of us would form pacts with your people, sometimes for a day, sometimes for life. Oh and everyone who wanted a Djinn would get one, that’s because we exist everywhere you see? One gust of wind could be caused by one Gust Djinn or many Breeze Djinn flying by together. Yes we can be found everywhere. Oh, and my wife is a lovely Autumn Djinn, responsible for gathering the storm, and rain Djinn for the short rainy season we have, brings a bit of a cool soothing breeze wherever she goes, though she has the temper of Storm Djinn sometimes, oh yes she does.” He sighed again “So tell me dear princess what is it like these days? I usually stay way up in the sky where the air is cool.”

Niniva placed her hands upon the table and pulled herself up to her feet, head facing downward. How quickly they were being thrown into combat. Her eyes gazed down blankly at the half-finished meal before her, in thought. This wasn't like being some soloist vagrant, doing oddjobs for an underground company. Then, atleast those she slaughtered were far from innocent. Wealthy merchants, crooked politicians, fellow cutthroats. Innocent blood was one she didn't often have to shed.

This was making war on a city without much cause or reason, bar securing a single solitary young girl. How much life would have to be extinguished to simply obtain the target? She threw these thoughts in the back of her head and returned to the reality around her. There would be no time to contemplate anyway, the time was drawing near. The way she figured it, the faster she herself could locate the target and bring her to the designated area, the faster this all would go. Though.. she pondered what exactly Damocles plan was, surely he didn't plan on putting his prior liege in harms way? She swiftly brought herself alongside him during the rather busy scuttle of men preparing for battle across the area.

Standing beside him, she whispered to him. "Whats the plan?..Did you have one in mind?" She asked, calmly. Though she very much wished he had some sort of idea. Otherwise this could get ugly.. She would have to make her way to the girl, by any means necessary. No matter the mission, she wasn't one to reject a command-Finding an odd sort of solace in the bidding of others, so long as she didnt dwell upon the fact she was being used, that is.

Rono sighed. He barely touched his meal, the talk about Igneus was still unnerving him, and a battle was to be commenced. Things couldn't get worser, he thought. He felt a slight bit sorry for any unlucky ones in the city, who were about to die for only one. "So what if she isn't here, do we clear out and set a trap?" he muttered.

Niniva edged herself closer to Damocles in a quick and near effortless fashion.

"Whats the plan?..Did you have one in mind?" she asked as calm as she could.

That was admiral really. To hold together one's nerve before a senseless slaughters. By now the units had moved below the decks, leaving plenty of room for anyone else to run across, to board their assigned vessels.

"The plan is simple young one," the Mistress spoke, "We simply distract the guards from the person that really matters to the Princess."

She leaned her head towards Damocles. It was despicable and horribly inefficient. Its not that the Khanate troops would not gladly give their lives, it was just senseless when a simple infiltration of the city in the cover of darkness would be the best solution. The Mistress of the Summer Blaze clearly did not have any qualms sacrificing men and women to her cause. But whether such a cause was worthy or not was best left to those that knew the bigger picture. For now, Damocles was concerned first and foremost for the Princess he was charged with in the first place.

"Don't worry, I can get you in faster than any sand ship," the Mistress reassured them.

From the heights of the clear night sky a large winged creature shadowed the ship. It was clearly bigger than anything that normally soared in the skies far above the surface. Swirling in a circular pattern of descent, the final form of the creature changed to that of a humanoid. The skin was dark as ash and the simple clothing the creature wore were marked with subdued maroon whilst the coloured facial features bore the likeness of a flame.

"Mumm'ra, Salamander of the Sun heeds your call Mistress," it spoke in a familiar tongue.

A spirit, standing as tall as Damocles introduced itself. Typically, it was hard to distinguish between male and female ones, and this one in particular, seemed androgynous.

"Mumm'ra, these people need a way in to the city, I hope you don't mind," the Mistress cooed like lovely dove she wasn't.

The creature nodded, awaiting the call to depart.

"Mumm'ra please take them to the back of the city keep when the cannons chime twelve."

With that said, she started off to the lower decks when Rono muttered something that Damocles didn't quite catch but the Mistress, who started past him, did.

"If she is not here, dear boy," the Mistress started, going from sensual to sadism in one breath, "we shall scour this city and burn it to the ground. And then we shall move on to the next one and do the same. She will be found, whether in this life, or the next."

((Blue there is a lot of filler I can write so that you can take shelter behind the sturdy walls of the city if you so wish.))

Rono gulped at the comment. Was there a requirement that fire mages were sadistic? He thought for a moment, and asked. "What's the next town? A friend of mine was closeby fixing my ship, and I hope I could get it then. That, and I honestly don't want to find out what experiment he'll unleash."

The Mistress chuckled slightly as if she was about to chide him for his childishness.

"Perhaps when a new world comes, we shall meet him then."

She whispered it in to his ears and his alone before finally departing.

Thought so. Rono thought, scratching his head. Well, knowing him, Alan probably flew off somewhere abandoned, and definately where Rono could find him.

((BLUE I REQUEST YOUR PRESENCE TO MOVE THIS RP FORWARD OR I SHALL DO IT FOR YOU COME THE MORROW!))

Perhaps, the Mistress thought, that the boy Rono knew more than he let on about. Something traumatic no doubt but that was not her concern. Spending every waking moment pondering the consequences and second-guessing others were a waste of time. Too much theory and not enough practice. That was what her mentor taught her. He was a Radical of course, but that didn't do much to discredit him of course. There was no other equal in his field of setting things alight, whether it be a hypothetical conjecture or a practical matter of life and death. There were other masters of course. But none of them could have ever hoped to have gotten through to her.

She remembered when she was young in the great Guild of Magic longingly looking upon the faces of the various master magi work their craft. One could do wonders with such a fantastic power. There were those who liked playing around with objects without touching them, approaching the levels where they were literally heart stoppers. Others toyed with the elements, conversing with the spirits of ages past and obtaining wisdom that such ancient ones bestowed. That was when she met Mumm'ra who was then only a whelp of a Salamander. They would have later formed a pact as sibling in arms. She had aided him ascend to his throne, and now, he was repaying that debt to her with his own fire. She had only since discovered her passionate flame, a power that was considered the greatest weapon and the basis of man's creations. That was then, this was now.

Nowadays, she looked on partly with jealousy as the magi of the wind, water and earth, among many many others, started creatively applying new ways in which to destroy the body. The air could rob a man of which was essential, that of breath. Likewise, water toyed with the liquids kept inside the body, drowning it or drying it as they saw fit. Earth was a bit more macabre. Sure they could have manipulated the very nature of the planet against the body but there was something even more sinister that it was capable of. Traditionally, people are returned to the ground when they pass to the other side, at least, the Lexmadans still do but the her home country, much less so. A curious earth magi found out, to his delight, and to another's horror, that he could indeed re-animate his late spouse that remain buried for only a few days. Further experiments proved that it was indeed possible to make such walking dead do the bidding of whoever raised them. That kind of magic was classified as necromancy and was outlawed in Lexmada. The Jagatai Khanate didn't see a use for it, as their horses and camels were soon replaced by steam ships. Nowadays, the dead with cremated, usually to fuel the Khanate war machine. Unlike those other great fields, fire was only meant for one purpose, to burn.

There were great names and families of course. The one that sprung to the Mistress' mind were her the name of her ancestral enemy, the Jasraj clan. They primarily dabbled in their weak air magicks, preferring the life of the Puritan, or that's what they made you think. In the end the Jasraj only consorted with others until their purposes have been fulfilled; in which case a Jasraj would gladly leave their former allies to die by the wayside like dogs. Then there were the lineage of Methusaleh. A family gutted by one tragedy after the next. It seems that their mastery of magic was a curse. Those that did not that survived bore witness to bitter power struggles, star crossed love affairs and fratricide, barely hanging on just to perpetuate the name. But with the current brothers Methusaleh, it seemed that their lineage may soon end. One was an ambitious tyrant while another was a chaste duty-bound do-gooder. Each would meet their end, one after being deposed of, while the other would capitulate on the line of duty.

Lady Po Gongfai, the Mistress of the Summer Blaze, advisor to the Khan and the head of the 2nd Jagatai Khanate Sand Fleet herself was from an esteemed line of great warriors. A shame that she would be the only child of the current generation. Her aunts, uncles, mother and father gone off to war, never to be seen again. Much of them from Gavaroche, concerning the origins of her line being an offshoot of the Gavaroche royal line itself. She could only laugh at such things for they were completely untrue. The Gavaroche royalty were political machinists. They were known for their complex schemes to consolidate their hold on their country despite being some of the most just rulers in the world. The Gongfai, as she was told, were fiery in temperament and straight forward, just like she was a far cry from the zany plots that only Gavaroche could only come up with.

All this thinking made her head ache for some reason. It was like jumping in to the maws of a master illusionist. When the stern cargo hold ramp lowered, the heat accumulated during the day was sucked outside and a chill replaced it. Robbed temporarily of the warmth, Lady Po made a note herself to move quickly on the city. The cause she espoused herself with was coming closer to completion. Yes, a new world will dawn tomorrow.

((And so ends my giant filler consisting of Lady Po's characterisation and some additional background in to the world.))

((Sorry I don't like pushing people forward either and I have loads of filler I could write while waiting but eventually we'll have to go somewhere aye?))

Each Lexmadan city was named after a saint. The one that Damocles saw put to the torch a day earlier was the city of St. Sira. St. Sira was a trader and an innovator. A shame he did not know much about hostile business acquisitions Damocles mused. Now what was troubling him as he awaited the flight to his charge was the fact that he was about to arrive uninvited to the city of St. Joachim. St. Joachim was the patron saint of war, so much that his church maintains a military branch loyal only to the city. The fact that it was the only city to ever have fell since St. Joachim 'liberated' it was also quite disconcerting.

The cathedral itself was as big the keep that was across the square from it. It may look pretty on the outside, but outside the usual area of worship hid perhaps the training areas and armoury. Most of the populace within knew how to handle at least one weapon since they were children and the only recourse when laying siege to a city like this was to kill everyone, leaving no survivors. Even as slaves, these prideful men and women would only incite revolt and rebellion. They perhaps viewed their independence and freedom alongside their loyalty to their home. Damocles had to wonder how long their home would last, knowing the Mistress of the Summer Blaze.

Mumm'ra had long changed his form to that of a majestic winged reptilian. The maroon scales and ashen ivory gave the dark a frightening new creature to haunt those still alive and awake. A voice was projected in the minds of those who still stood in awe, Damocles included.

"Come, it is nearly time to take flight."